"But..."
Before Olivia could finish her sentence, Denver suddenly frowned and clutched his head.
"What’s wrong?" Olivia naturally felt nervous.
Denver still frowned, looked at her, and said in a low, hoarse voice, "The wound hurts."
"What’s going on? What should we do?" Olivia thought about the blood he had lost initially and felt faint, furrowing her brows tightly. "Should I call Dr. Jackson and ask? It’s not good if there are any aftereffects."
"No need." Denver stopped her. "Could you pour so water for ? I haven’t taken my dicine yet."
"Oh." Olivia hurriedly got out of bed to pour him so water.
Denver watched her busy figure and breathed a small sigh of relief.
The anesthetic had worn off, and the wound was persistently aching, though not as exaggerated as he had just portrayed.
He just didn’t want to get a divorce.
That thought flashed through his mind, and Denver suddenly paused.
Indeed, he didn’t want a divorce.
The ti spent with Olivia was mostly warm and peaceful. Occasionally, he would tease her and watch her flustered reaction, which brought him joy. To be honest, he quite enjoyed this sense of stability.
Moreover—
This was completely different from the feeling he had when he was in love before.
Josephine Holland was lively and outgoing, loved to play, especially enjoyed taking photos, shopping, traveling, and experiencing novel and exciting things.
He was quite different, actually.
In his teenage years, he had been troubled by his overly handso appearance. Compared to thrills and novelty, he preferred music, imrsing himself in the world of music where he could free his mind and indulge himself. Essentially, he liked tranquility.
He used to think that love was all about complenting each other. He liked peace, Josephine liked activity, so they were a perfect match, adjusting to each other.
Just like—
Josephine loved taking photos, whereas he didn’t. Initially, it made her unhappy, but later, he wholeheartedly helped her take pictures, and such conflicts between them were easily resolved.
But now, perhaps because too much ti had passed, the joy of that ti had faded significantly.
In contrast, what remained was guilt and pressure.
Josephine’s matters weighed on his heart. For eight years, whenever he thought of it, he couldn’t relax or let go.
Denver frowned, deep in thought.
Olivia returned with water and noticed his distracted look. She called his na twice before Denver snapped back to reality, seeing the water cup in her hand, and smiled, "Thank you."
"You’re welco."
Olivia turned around to get the dicine for him.
Denver threw all the dicine into his mouth, tilting his head slightly, and drank more than half a cup of water.
This man truly had an attractive appearance.
Olivia watched his throat move and felt a bit uncomfortable, so she shifted her gaze to the side.
Denver placed the water cup on the bedside table and said softly, "It’s late, let’s rest."
"How will you sleep?" Olivia glanced at the back of his head and asked.
"I can only lie on my stomach." Denver shrugged, raised his hand to dim the bedside lamp a bit, and asked her, "Mind if I leave a little light on?"
"Hmm." Olivia nodded, "Leave it on, it will be more convenient for you to get up."
Denver smiled.
Olivia pulled over the blanket a little, closed her eyes, and prepared to sleep.
She and Denver lived in the sa room, slept in the sa bed, and even, to ensure their nightly intimacy, Mother Petal only left one quilt in the room. Although the quilt was rather big, it was still quite awkward to sleep like that.
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